


What Would I Do Without You?

by renegadeontherunn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadeontherunn/pseuds/renegadeontherunn
Summary: What if Umbridge had used the Cruciatus Curse on Harry?
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 146





	What Would I Do Without You?

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during Order of the Phoenix, right before Umbridge is going to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry. Hermione stops her, but I thought: what if she didn't? hope you all like it and comment if you want! also, tell me if I should continue this; I'm on the fence about making this a multi-chapter fic, so let me know! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything - just using it for fun. The bold text is taken directly from the book (which I also don't own)

**_“You are forcing me, Potter… I do not want to,” said Umbridge, still moving restlessly on the spot, “but sometimes circumstances justify the use… I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice….”_ **

**_Malfoy was watching her with a hungry expression on his face._ **

**_“The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue,” said Umbridge quietly._ **

**_“No!” shrieked Hermione. “Professor Umbridge- it’s illegal”- but Umbridge took no notice. There was a nasty, eager, excited look on her face that Harry had never seen before. She raised her wand._ **

**_“The Minister wouldn’t want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!” cried Hermione._ **

**_“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Umbridge, who was now panting slightly as she pointed her wand at different parts of Harry’s body in turn, apparently trying to decide what would hurt the most. “He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same. . . .”_ **

**_“It was_ ** **you** ** _?” gasped Harry. “_ ** **You** **_sent the dementors after me?”_ **

**_“_ ** **Somebody** **_had to act,” breathed Umbridge, as her wand came to rest pointing directly at Harry’s forehead. “They were all bleating about silencing you somehow — discrediting you — but I was the one who actually_ ** **did** **_something about it. . . . Only you wriggled out of that one, didn’t you, Potter? Not today, though, not now. . . .”_ **

She giggled that high, almost inhuman, laugh Harry had heard many times before. His heart was beating furiously; he was sure Umbridge would have to shout over the sound of it.

“Professor Umbridge, please!” begged Hermione. Harry could hear her breath quickening, and his own chest felt tight with fear.

Umbridge ignored Hermione as though she hadn’t spoken. Wildly, almost mad with excitement, she cried, “ _Crucio!_ ”

Harry’s worries about Sirius flew from his mind as he fell out of the chair, squirming and thrashing around. He heard shouts of protest: a “ _No!_ ” from Ron, a shrill “ _Stop it!_ ” from Hermione, and a choked noise from Neville, though that could’ve been because of Crabbe’s suffocating grip.

Harry’s head ruptured with agony, his brain pounding viciously against his skull. White hot pain shot through his body; his blood seemed to boil, so much so that he thought it just might burst through his veins and splatter Umbridge’s frilly pink office with red. He almost screamed with the effort it took to stay conscious - 

And then it was gone. Harry gasped for breath, tremors wracking his body. He unclenched his jaw and blinked. 

He pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on Umbridge’s desk. Harry felt, aside from the usual after effects of the Cruciatus Curse, a piercing burn beginning in his stomach. He coughed roughly, the noise barely heard over the commotion being made by his friends across the room. 

He glanced at them. Neville had his eyes shut tightly and was shaking - the image of a kind-looking woman in a hospital popped into Harry’s mind: Neville’s mother. Hermione had tears streaming down her cheeks and she was shouting for Umbridge to let them go. Ginny too was crying, and seemed to have redoubled her efforts to rid herself of the Slytherin holding her. Luna looked terrified and worried but altogether angry, her wide eyes darting between Harry and Umbridge. 

And Ron . . . well, Harry didn’t think he had ever seen Ron so furious in his life. Not when Snape set unfair detentions or when he had gotten that letter from Percy, not even on the verge of hexing Malfoy did he ever appear as livid as he did watching Harry grip Umbridge’s desk to stay upright. His yells mixed with Hermione’s and Ginny’s, and the room pulsed with energy. Even Malfoy looked vaguely nauseous as he stood watching by the window. Harry felt a grim satisfaction at his expression, though he silently scoffed at the idea that Malfoy would ever change.

Harry’s head was still throbbing and his arm trembled with the effort of holding himself up. Visions were flashing in his mind - Sirius struggling on the ground of the Department of Mysteries; Voldemort’s ivory wand swishing in the air with each torturous spell he cast. He could hear echoes of Sirius’ screams as they beat in time with his pulsing headache. His heart twisted with misery.

“Well, Potter?” Umbridge asked eagerly, lowering her wand slightly. “Ready to crack, yet? Tell me who you were calling. Now!” 

Harry shot the dirtiest glare he could muster at her and straightened, releasing the desk, using up strength he didn’t think he could spare. He coughed into his hand. 

“Not going to give in, are we?” asked Umbridge with a sigh. She looked around and noted the tears on Hermione’s face with a smirk. “You may not tell me, Potter, but let’s see if your friends will.” She squared her shoulders, repositioned her wand to cast the spell right over Harry’s heart, and before anyone could think, hissed, “ _Crucio!_ ”

A thousand knives sliced open his chest. Distantly, Harry felt his back hit the floor. Unable to stop himself, his throat ripped with a scream that could surely be heard throughout the castle. His nerves were ablaze, flames viciously lashing his muscles. He could feel his mouth locked in a tormented roar, but could barely hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. Harry clawed at his skin, wanting to tear himself apart, certain he wouldn’t survive this much longer. He could almost feel his sanity leaving him, and he silently begged Umbridge to just kill him, to make it all stop. 

And then it did. Slowly, Harry returned to his body and felt tears dripping down his temples. Somehow, his glasses had stayed on, though they rested crookedly on his nose. He wanted to reach up and adjust them, but barely had enough energy to blink, let alone raise his arms. His joints ached and twitched uncomfortably. He coughed harshly and would’ve winced at the scrape of his throat if he could have. Once again, Harry realized his body was shaking uncontrollably and his breathing was shallow. With strength he didn’t know he possessed, Harry stumbled upright and backed against a wall to keep himself that way. 

When Harry’s head slowly rose to look at Umbridge, he saw, through his swimming vision, that she wasn’t even facing him. Instead, she was turned to his friends, who were still held by the Slytherins. He felt a passing flash of embarrassment as he thought about what they’d just witnessed, but he was too tired to think about it for long. 

Luna, Hermione, and Neville were staring in horror at Harry’s trembling form. Ron was struggling to escape his captor even harder than before. Harry could feel Ginny’s eyes scrutinizing him, boring into him as though she was attempting to read his thoughts. He briefly met her rough, worried gaze, which softened as soon as their eyes locked, but then looked down, ashamed, though he wasn’t sure why. Tears prickled behind his eyes and he squeezed them shut.

“Does anyone want to tell me what they were doing, now?” Umbridge asked quietly - calmly. When no one answered, she quickly spun and pointed her wand at Harry again. He flinched, regretting it as soon as he saw the triumphant gleam in her eyes.

“ _Stupefy!_ “ a voice called and Umbridge fell to her disgustingly-patterned rug. Harry slumped against the wall, dropping his head to his chest, his limbs shaking with exertion. Through the haze of pain, he could hear spells being cast and bodies hitting the floor, but he was too dazed to see who. His knees suddenly buckled, and as the ground approached him, strong hands grabbed him from both sides. He slowly looked up, but his vision was blurred and he could only see splotches of red hair. 

“Harry! Harry, are you alright?” someone yelled in his ear, but Harry couldn’t answer. Black spots were greedily overtaking his vision.

“Of course he’s not, Ron!” someone else shrieked. “He needs help. Let’s get him to the hospital wing.” Harry thought it might’ve been Hermione, but he didn’t understand what she was talking about.

Who wasn’t alright? What was happening? Harry felt numb and his eyes started to slip closed. 

“Harry, no! You can’t!” a third voice yelped. “J-just stay awake. Just for a bit.” He could feel hands on his shoulders and arms, lifting his body. He was gently brought to his feet, as though he were a fragile piece of glass. Harry leaned heavily on someone, his arms looped over a person on each side, their hands wrapped around his waist. Somehow, he stayed upright despite the lack of feeling in his legs.

“Sirius . . .” Harry mumbled, his mind flashing with images of his godfather’s dead body. His scar burned, searing itself deeper into his forehead. 

It was over. It was all over. Everything they had tried to do, the effort the Order had made to keep Sirius safe, all the work Sirius had done to escape Azkaban, to be with Harry - to _love_ him - it was all pointless. All of it. Their rescue mission failed before it had even begun. Sirius was dead. Nothing else mattered to Harry. He struggled against the hands holding him up, tears leaking out of his eyes.

“Sirius!” he yelled, breaking loose from his friends’ constricting hands with a rush of adrenaline. “Grimmauld Place!” Harry choked out, flinging Floo powder into the fireplace and heaving himself inside. He could hear them shouting and felt hands trying to pull him back, but green smoke enveloped him and he was gone.

Usually, spinning so fast would have made Harry nauseous, but his stomach was already wound in a knot, coils of despair cinched around his heart. He landed on his knees in an old fireplace in an alley; how it got there, Harry wasn’t sure, but instantly, tears of frustration sprung in his eyes.

Forgetting to say _Number Twelve_ , Grimmauld Place was the most infuriating thing Harry had ever done. He had ended up Merlin knows how far from Sirius’ childhood home, with Sirius dead in the Ministry of Magic and his friends stuck at Hogwarts. Umbridge and the Slytherins had most likely woken up and were torturing Hermione while he stood in an abandoned alleyway covered in ash.

Harry had had enough. He sprinted, faster than he ever had in his life, towards where he thought would lead to the familiar street that housed the Order’s Headquarters. He skidded to a halt a few blocks later, out of breath and crying, to see Number Twelve standing imperceptibly between Eleven and Thirteen. He shoved the gate open and hurtled up the steps. Without knocking, Harry burst through the door with so much force, it almost came off its hinges.

“Sirius!” Harry bellowed, rushing down the hallway to the staircase. He was crying louder now, gasping out deafening sobs. “Sirius!”

He plunged up the steps, opening every door he came across. “Sirius!” Harry didn’t know why he was calling Sirius’ name when his godfather’s fate had already been sealed. He couldn’t remember why he had gone there. What was the point? Sirius was gone. “Sirius, please!” He shouldered open another door and, finding nothing, flew back down the hall. As Harry’s feet sped underneath him, he could feel himself shivering, though not, he realized, because of the cold. 

Harry felt exceptionally empty. It seemed as though a black hole had opened inside him, consuming everything. He felt numb. An endless bare pit of black nothing.

Harry ran headfirst into a tall grey threadbare figure. He yelled in surprise, sitting down hard on the carpet. The figure knelt in front of him, but Harry couldn’t tell who it was. His vision was blurred and his head drummed in a beat that blocked out any other noise. The person in front of him was swiftly accompanied by a shorter, darker figure. A rush of comfort swept over Harry, though he didn’t know why. His heart desperately wished for Sirius - for home.

Voices swirled around him. He could hear people calling his name, but he paid them no attention.

Sirius . . .

Harry was laid on the ground, hands gently shaking his shoulders.

Sirius . . .

Harry scrunched his eyes closed, tears squeezing out like raindrops.

Sirius . . 

Harry fought against the figures above him, wanting - needing - to escape.

Sirius . . .

Harry called the name as his eyes flew open. He sat up so quickly that he almost collided with Lupin, who was crouched in front of him. Harry backed away, his mind going haywire, his - 

Wait.

Lupin?

Voices bombarded him.

“Harry! Harry, are you alright?” Frantic.

“Harry, what happened?” Calm.

“Are you okay?” Worried.

“What’s going on?” Soothing.

“Are you hurt?” Distressed.

“How did you get here?” Gentle.

Their voices overlapped, questions flying at him. Harry looked up into the concerned face of Sirius Black.

“Sirius,” Harry breathed, tears dripping from his eyes, “y-you’re alive.”

“Yes, of course. What’s wrong?” Sirius asked him, his eyes dark with worry. “Harry?”

Hearing Sirius say his name seemed to light something in Harry. He launched himself at Sirius, throwing his arms around him. He was _alive_ . Harry embraced him, hoping the gesture would say everything he should’ve told Sirius before: he loved him. More than anyone. More than anything. Harry would do _anything_ for him - go to any length to save him.

Sirius, with no hesitation, clutched Harry in his arms. They sat there for an eternity, locked in a hug that allowed Sirius’ love to smother the blackness inside Harry.

Harry didn’t realize he was shaking until Sirius tightened his arms around him and then kissed the top of his forehead. Lupin looked down in concern, his brow furrowed.

Harry choked out another sob as Sirius’ grip loosened. “Harry? Are you okay? What happened?” Sirius asked, helping Harry stand. He clutched onto Sirius’ arm and, when his legs buckled, reached for Lupin as well. “Harry?”

“Sirius,” Harry coughed. “Help.”


End file.
